Cymbeline

Fear no more the heat o' the sun
Nor the furious winters' rages
Thou thy worldly task hast done,
Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages
Golden lads and girls all must,
As chimney-sweepers, come to dust.

The sceptre, learning, physic, must
All follow this and come to dust.

Fear no more the frown o' th' great
Thou art past the tyrant's stroke
Care no more to clothe and eat
To thee the reed is as the oak.
The sceptre, learning, physic, must
All follow this and come to dust.

All lovers young, all lovers must
Consign to thee and come to dust.

Fear no more the lightning flash,
Nor th' all-dreaded thunder-stone
Fear not slander, censure rash
Thou hast finished joy and moan.
All lovers young, all lovers must
Consign to thee and come to dust.